


The Night After

by natascha_ronin



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-30 12:03:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6423214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natascha_ronin/pseuds/natascha_ronin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From this prompt: “Well, this is most definitely not where I wanted to teleport, sorry for appearing in your bed at 2 in the morning” </p>
<p>Spec fic post-Underworld. Killian lost his memory and angst ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Night After

Charon’s boat glided swiftly through the water, and as the shore of the pond came in sight, Emma breathed a huge sigh of relief. Her family and her pirate had made the journey back with her in one piece, even after Gold’s treacherous betrayal. She couldn’t wait to see the look on the Dark One’s face when he saw her and Killian back in Storybrooke. 

_They made it to the river Styx. At Liam’s insistence, Killian had agreed to come back with them despite not knowing who they all are, despite not trusting the Crocodile. There was magic in Storybrooke, she had convinced them, magic that could undo the curse and bring back Hook’s memories of who he was when he was with her. Liam’s last words to her still rang in her ears._

_“Take care of my little brother, Emma.”_

_“Younger brother,” she corrected, “and you have my word.”_

_He smiled and waved as they parted ways in the rain, already as dear to her as any brother could be._

_At the river, Gold reached into his coat pocket to retrieve the dagger, and then turned around and smirked at her._

_“I’m very sorry for you all,” he said, keeping his eyes on Emma, “but I can’t have Belle knowing my secret.”_

_His eyes glinted in the darkness and, poof, he was gone in a cloud of red smoke, leaving them to traverse the realm alone._

_It had taken them three days to find Merlin and for him to plead their case to Persephone. There was one woman Emma never wished to cross with again. Her soul was tough as leather. She made Regina look as naïve as Snow White. She supposed going back and forth from the Underworld over eons would do that to a gal, though. Being married to a guy like Hades, you had to be tough as nails. In the end, she had three rules:_

_First: The price. It was steep. Killian’s price was a passionate kiss (Emma had to turn away and close her eyes as bile rose in her throat. It was bad enough that he couldn’t remember her—she had found out that was the price he had paid for his entry into the underworld). He was adamant that Emma pay with his ring (even without his memories, he still took care of her). At this, Snow willingly handed over her own wedding ring. Robin sang Persephone a song he had written for Marian on their wedding day, looking into her eyes with all the love he remembered for his dead wife. David had given her his sword. For Henry, the price was his memory of his first kiss from Violet, and Regina had given her the memories of her beloved horse, Rocinante. They wept, but Persephone was unyielding: “The price is the price.”_

_Second: No disrespect. She was already pissed off at Rumpelstiltskin for sneaking in and out twice. She wouldn’t deal with that from a group of heroes on a rescue mission. They wanted out. They had to stay out. No return trips: “I had better not see your faces here again until your time has come. Capuche?”_

_Third: Keep your eyes front. Don’t look back. None of them had any trouble following that rule. Hell was not somewhere they would look back on fondly. “Keep your eye fixed on the North Star, darlings, or you’ll be salt pillars.”_

_They were tired, hungry, and grateful to get the hell out of there._

They walked across the water, Killian timid almost and clutching Emma’s arm with his hook. The water splashed over their boots and she could hear his sigh as they stepped onto the shore and the grass. It was nighttime, and the waning moon marked the week they had spent in another realm. She looked around at the faces of her family and let out a shuddered breath of relief. They had actually done it. 

“Bloody hell,” she said her eyes wide, “We made it.”

Killian looked at her with a bemused grin on his face and a quirked eyebrow. She gave him a sheepish grin. 

Snow was the first one to speak: “I think we should all go home and get some rest.”

“I’ll second that,” David agreed, nodding, “Breakfast at Granny’s?”

“Before or after we visit our dear Rumpelstiltskin?” Regina quipped.

“Before,” Emma caught her eye, “I haven’t eaten in a week. I want to meet the Dark One with a full stomach.”

She reached over and put an arm around Henry, kissing him goodnight on his forehead. 

They walked back to their vehicles, Regina with her arms around Henry and Robin, Snow and David clutching each other, each heading off in their own directions. Emma steered Killian toward her bug. 

“This is my vessel, Captain,” she gestured with her head. “Your ship or the house?”

He stopped short, and looked at the car. 

“Killian, what’s wrong?” 

“I don’t suppose you would be adverse to me spending the night aboard my ship?”

“Sure,” she said, trying to hide the disappointment on her face. If she was honest, she was horribly adverse to the idea. Now that she had Killian here, even without his memories, she never wanted to let him go. 

It had been such a whirlwind of stratagem in the underworld, and it had been no small feat to get Killian to accept that they had known each other, to gain his trust so he would return to Storybrooke. She owed Liam a debt she could never repay for his trust that what she said about their love was true. She could only hope to make it up to both of them by helping Killian regain his memories so he could finally have his happy ending. 

Now, she was driving the love she had lost back to his ship, and she would be spending the night away from him. Again. 

They pulled up to the docks and she put the car in neutral, pulled the parking brake, and released the clutch. She remembered telling Killian the difference between automatic and standard transmissions on their drive to Storybrooke less than a year ago, when he had given her memories back in New York. 

She didn’t like the way the tables had turned. She hated that he couldn’t remember her, couldn’t remember loving her. 

He turned his head to her, the pleasant stare something she was not sure she wanted to get used to. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, a small smile on his lips and his eyes darting to hers briefly before he turned away, “I see the Jolly Roger over there, I’ll just make my way.” He reached out to grab the door handle.

“Wait.” She clutched his hook. “Killian, I know you don’t remember me, but there’s a lot we need to discuss.” She was trying and failing to be patient with him, just like he was always patient with her. 

He didn’t look at her, simply nodded and looked down. 

“Aye, but there’s all the time in the world for that now. It’s best we get some sleep first.” He opened the door and pulled his hook out of her grasp, slipping away. 

“Goodnight, Killian,” she croaked, defeated. 

“Goodnight, Emma.” He turned around, his arm on the roof of the car. It looked like such a normal pose, and through her tear-filled eyes, he could have been her Killian just two months ago. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He closed the door and walked down the dock to his ship. She watched as he walked up the gangway, running his hand over the deck railing. She watched him bend over and open the hatch, then disappear down the ladder to his quarters. The last time she had been on that ship with him, he had broken her heart. Now, it felt like her heart was breaking all over again. She had him back. He was alive, his heart a half of her own, but he had no memory of her. 

_“I loved you,” he had said that day._

_“The ship’s yours.”_

She drove through the deserted streets to the house, thinking about the first moment she had seen him again in the underworld.

_He was wearing tan breeches, a black blouse, and plain knee-high boots. No jewelry, save a small stud in his right ear. Even with his back to them, Emma knew it was him. His hair was shorter, his skin tan again from being out in the sun. He was helping a man load lobster traps onto a fishing boat. When she called out to him, he turned around. She looked into his eyes, and she knew. The blank, pleasantly guarded stare. The small grin. She had seen it before on his face, in the author’s rewritten story. Only this time, there was no love-struck meet cute. He truly had no memory of her. She would have to play her cards close to her chest. There was no telling what kind of curse he was under here. No telling what the god of the underworld had done to him as punishment._

_“Killian Jones?” She approached cautiously._

_“Aye, milady,” He nodded, still smiling, “I am Killian Jones, and this is my brother, Liam.” He gestured with his hook to the curly-haired man smiling down at her from the boat. Her heart caught in her throat as she shook both of their hands. They had found each other, and now she was here to tear them apart._

She pulled up in front of her house. Their house. As she walked up to the door, she noticed that the grass needed mowing. She would have to do that soon, on top of dealing with Gold, and getting the memories back for the town, and figuring out what to do about the people from Camelot, and checking on Arthur. She sighed and slumped against the door as she closed it behind her, sliding down to the floor. The savior was back, and so were her responsibilities. 

The house was dark and smelled musty. Only the lights from the street lit the inside, casting eerie shadows around the space. The last time she had been here, she had vowed to bring Killian back with her. She tried to shut out the dark and creepy feeling when she looked at the door to the basement, the lock still undone from when she had retrieved Excalibur that night. Had it really only been a little over a week ago that she had stood here in this room and argued with the Dark One? He had stood in this very spot and tricked her into giving him the sword that took his life. 

She stood and walked over to the couch, flicking her wrist to turn on the lamp as she sank down onto it. She remembered lying here for hours after he died, twirling his ring in her hands. Now, she had nothing to remember him by as she sat in the house that had become a tomb for their life together. She looked around, the spyglass she bought for him still standing by the bay window. The picture of the birch forest that reminded her of their time in Camelot still lopsided from where he pulled it from the wall. 

She must have sat there for hours, waiting for sleep or dawn or a visit or some crisis, she wasn’t sure. Anything to take her away from the longing for the man who couldn’t remember her, who she couldn’t forget. The irony of the change in their situation wasn’t lost on her. She had once forgotten him for a year. He had given up his home to get her back. Now, he had his home but couldn’t remember her. She thought about apparating to Regina’s vault to start working on how to get his memories back. She wasn’t sure if there was a spell to undo the devil’s own curse. She supposed that was better than sitting here and not even pretending to sleep. She wanted nothing more than to sleep, preferably next to Killian. 

If he had asked her, she would have stayed with him on the Jolly Roger and slept on the floor or the chair. She didn’t care which. Giving in to love had the unintended consequence of hurting immensely over someone not loving you back. She hadn’t counted on him not being able to remember her, not loving her. She didn’t know how to live in a world where Killian Jones didn’t love Emma Swan anymore. She felt adrift. She didn’t have those walls around him anymore. He had torn them down, but couldn’t even live in the house on the other side because he couldn’t remember it. 

She knew this much: she wouldn’t stop until he did. She knew Killian Jones’ happy ending was Emma Swan, and she was damn well going to make sure that the man who sacrificed everything for her was going to receive it. 

She thought of him, even now, alone in his room. Was he sleeping? Did he sleep anymore? It was easy to spot the dark circles under his eyes, the ashen look on his face. She tried to picture him in sleep, dreaming peacefully at last while his ship rocked him in slumber. He would use that word, too, slumber. She always adored Killian’s otherworldly speech, his use of vocabulary. She had once joked with him that he’d be a wiz at Scrabble. She smiled at that, and was overcome by the desperation to just hold him and know that he was okay. She closed her eyes and sobbed, tears streaming down her face. The emotion she felt became too much, and she shook as magic started coursing through her, not caring if the lights flickered or the furniture got rearranged, just finally giving in to the hurt and longing. 

“Don’t cry, love.”

Her head snapped up. She glanced around, and two things happened at once. One, she was aware that there was no light at all save for a lantern in the corner of the room, and two, she was in Killian’s bed on board his ship and he was lying right next to her.

He was also awake.

Blue eyes met hers in the dim light and she gasped. 

“Not that I’m complaining, but what are you doing here, Emma?” He sat up. His brace was off. He covered the ruined end of his arm with his hand and rested them on his knees. His face softened by sleep, he looked at her expectantly and smiled.

“I – I don’t know,” she looked around again, “I was just in our – my living room and now I’m here. I must have teleported here.”

“Teleported?” He quirked an eyebrow, “like magic?”

“Yeah, I must have forgotten to tell you about that. I have magic – light magic.” She bit her lip in anticipation.

“And you used your magic to pay me a visit in the middle of the night?” His grin widened into a devilish smirk. 

“Trust me, I wasn’t meaning to show up here, I was trying to give you space, but I was just…I dunno…I was thinking about you, and magic is led by emotions and my emotions have been all over the place –“ 

He held up his hand while slipping his other arm under the blanket.

“That’s alright, Emma, if you wanted an excuse to pay me a visit, all you had to do was ask. No need to use your magic as an excuse.” He chuckled, his voice deepened by sleep. 

She rolled her eyes. 

“I wasn’t sneaking on board your ship, Hook.”

She took that moment to notice that he was shirtless – no – naked under the blanket. She shot up out of the bed. In the few months they had been dating, she had never seen him without clothes on. 

“What now?”

“You’re,” she gestured toward him while turning away, “You’re naked.”

He laughed. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting visitors.”

“So I gathered. I’m sorry for intruding. I’ll just –“ she started to move her hand to poof away. 

“No, wait.” She heard rustling around behind her. “I’ll dress. You don’t have to leave.”

More rustling. He came up behind her and took her hand. She turned around. He wore the tan breeches but no shirt. His chest and arms were covered in tattoos and scars. A compass adorned his right bicep. Without thinking, she reached up to trace it. His gaze followed her hand, and then he looked into her eyes. 

“Have you seen these before?”

“No, just the one on your forearm” she confessed, dropping her hand to the tattoo of Milah, then down his arm to their joined hands. She ran her fingers over the veins on the back of his hand. “We were taking it slow, because of me. Because I – well, let’s just say I had a lot of trust issues.”

He nodded, looking down to their hands. 

“Your walls.”

A flicker of recognition caught her. 

“Yeah. You brought them down, one by one.”

“Because I loved you.”

“Yes,” she whispered, swallowing hard, “Yes, you loved me. You loved me so well I went to hell to get you back.”

“And now you’re worried,” he said, looking into her eyes, “You’re worried I won’t love you now, that I won’t remember loving you.”

“You’re quite perceptive.” She smirked.

“I may be a pirate, but I believe in good form.” He reached up to cup her cheek. “I must have then. Tell me, did I win your heart honorably?”

“Aye, you did.” She snickered. “I fought it, but you crept up on me and before I knew it, my walls were falling down and I was in love with you.”

“Then don’t be afraid. I am certain that if I loved you once, that I can again.”

“I hope so.”

“I wouldn’t have followed you here if I didn’t have some intuition about us.”

She smiled, really smiled, for the first time since that day she found him in the underworld. He rubbed his thumb over her lips and his eyes dipped to follow. She wanted desperately for him to kiss her, but she wouldn’t push her luck. It was enough that they were here now, that her heart beat in his chest. She placed her hand over it just then, feeling the thump under her palm, the warmth of his lifeblood pumping through his body. She felt his hair beneath her fingertips, curling them over his chest to feel the tickling over her skin. She heard his sharp intake of breath, saw him close his eyes, and felt his fingers slip around the back of her neck to draw her close. She slid her arms around him, burying her face in his neck, breathing in his scent. He always smelled of salt and gunpowder. She wanted to bottle the scent and wear it forever. 

They stayed like that for a few minutes, maybe longer, just holding each other, until she felt him yawn.

“You need to get some sleep.”

“You do, too.”

“I should get going.” She moved to pull away, but he held her hand and looked into her eyes.

“Stay with me?” He glanced back over his shoulder to the bed. 

“For as long as you like.”

**Author's Note:**

> Did you catch that Matrix reference? For the record, this is actually not what I want to believe happens, because I hope that Killian does regain his memory of Emma in the UW and Liam marries them, because a girl can dream, right?


End file.
